


Half Doomed and Semi Sweet

by combat_jorts



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Metaverse (Persona 5), Alternate Universe - No Powers, Canon Divergence, Everyone Goes to Shujin, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, goro is an unreliable narrator, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combat_jorts/pseuds/combat_jorts
Summary: “You’re second, aren’t you? Right behind Makoto Niijima.”Goro nodded, eyes narrowing.Kawakami had begun to wring her hands, gaze averted. “You could be first.”Goro schooled his expression into easy sweetness, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear, and smiled. “We can work something out.”————When delinquent Akira Kurusu is transferred to Shujin Academy, someone must be tasked to keep him in line. Goro Akechi, Vice President of Shujin Academy’s student council and second in his class, does not have time for this bullshit.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 45
Kudos: 202





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> cant believe I’ve been in the persona fandom for almost two years and haven’t posted a fic yet smh  
> anyway I hope you enjoy!! check the end of the chapter for more notes! <3

“Me, Ms. Kawakami..?”

Goro could feel his eye twitching already, though he plastered on a smile just this side of pleasant as he gripped his iced coffee tight enough that the plastic began to creak. 

Kawakami averted her gaze, sighing as she combed her fingers through her hair and shook her head, holding her forehead for a moment. “I doubt it’ll be much trouble, but you know how busy Niijima-san is right now,” she began, hazarding a glance toward Goro. He stared right back, slowly swirling the ice in his cup. _This had to be a joke._ “I know you love Shujin as much as the rest of us, and… Look. I know it sounds like a… pretty crappy job—“

Crappy was an understatement. They might as well have asked him to scrub the toilets clean every period. Goro snorted, drawing a scowl from Kawakami. “My apologies,” he amended sweetly, artificially. Kawakami gave him a flat look.

“All you have to do is keep an eye on him when you see him, and if he does anything out of line, take it straight to principal Kobayakawa.” She sounded tired as she scrubbed a hand down her face, leveling him with a look just short of pleading. _Good._ She’d have to beg him for him to even begin considering taking this _stupid_ job. 

“With all due respect, Ms. Kawakami— I’m rather busy myself,” he began evenly, condensation from his cup dripping onto his ironed slacks. _Pity._ His ice was melting. “Why wouldn’t it be _everyone’s_ job to keep an eye on this transfer student? Really, if he’s going to be such a nuisance, why accept him at all?” He crossed his legs, folded his arms in his lap, and leaned forward in his chair with a defiant eyebrow raised. He was pushing his luck, he knew, but he hadn’t come this far to simply bend to the will of Shujin’s faculty. Goro did far too much for this school for them to think he’d agree to glorified _babysitting duty._ He’d far outgrown his grade school tattletale phase. Swirling his drink in his cup, he grimaced at the layer of melted ice quickly forming atop his coffee. He only seldom got the opportunity to actually get Frostbucks before school… This was a waste of his time and money.

Kawakami glanced away, pursing her lips as if she were greatly troubled by his query. Oh, this was going to be _good._ “I shouldn’t be telling a student this… But his parents paid a great deal of money for his emergency application to even be considered. We have a reputation for—“

“So this was a bribe.” Goro cocked a brow, watching Kawakami shoot him a hard look. Lovely. So not only was this student a criminal, but he had mommy and daddy’s money, as well. Goro would take the job just to make the guy’s life a living hell if he didn’t respect his own dignity a bit more. “If his family had to _bribe_ this school to let him attend, I believe this is _far_ from my jurisdiction. After all, he could be dangerous.” Goro plastered on a concerned grimace, tilting his head and fixing Kawakami with wide, innocent eyes. He watched the moment she began to falter with glee. 

“Akechi-kun—… Oh, forget it.” Kawakami dropped her hands into her lap, seemingly defeated, and Goro felt a flare of sweet triumph in his chest. _Finally._ He was uncrossing his legs and readying his customary, automatic _thanks-for-nothing-and-goodbye’_ s when the woman raised a hand, her index finger extended. He stilled, all pleasantness dissolving from his expression. “I’m sure you could convince principal Kobayakawa to throw in something extra.”

This had to be a _joke_. Goro almost laughed out loud, instead pursing his lips and taking a sip of his coffee. Watery. “Ms. Kawakami,” he began, voice artificially sweet, “I _hardly_ think principal Kobayakawa could give me anything I need that I don’t already have.” And now they expected _him_ to take a bribe? _Pathetic_.

Poor Kawakami seemed to be grasping for straws. Her hands were clenched in her lap, knuckles white. Goro almost pitied her. “What’s your class rank, Akechi-kun?”

Goro blinked. _What was she getting at?_ “I’m… sorry?”

“You’re second, aren’t you? Right behind Makoto Niijima.”

Goro nodded, eyes narrowing.

Kawakami had begun to wring her hands, gaze averted. “You could be first.”

Goro’s eyes widened. _First?_ Truthfully, Goro has always wanted to be the top of his class. He _was_ until high school. Until then, he’d always been the smartest, the most charming, the sweetest— always _first._ And yet, here he was, _Vice_ President of the student council and _second_ in his class. He was never good enough to be first, not as long as Makoto Niijima stood in his way. Of course she had earned her spot— she was effortlessly intelligent just like him. What separated them was the fact that Goro had worked _so much harder._ Did Goro condone falsifying records? No, he wouldn’t say it sat 100% right with him. But do those who work hard deserve their just desserts if they have been withheld? Yes— yes they do. 

Goro schooled his expression into easy sweetness, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear, and smiled. “We can work something out.”

  
  


**———————**

“Akechi-kun!”

Goro knew that voice. He _hated_ that voice.

“Mr. Kamoshida,” he chirped pleasantly, turning and flashing the man his sweetest smile. It made him want to puke. “What can I do for you?”

Kamoshida caught up with him, walking by his side like they were comrades. _As if._ “You heard about that transfer student coming Monday, right?”

There were a million other things Goro would rather be doing than making small talk with Kamoshida, namely pulling his hair out by each individual strand, or scooping his eyes out with a spoon. However, he knew if he could play his cards just right, that idiot would hand him any information he wanted on that transfer student. The man was woefully loose-lipped and highly vindictive, but Goro had won his favor despite wanting nothing to do with his precious volleyball team. It wasn’t as if he particularly enjoyed being a suck-up, but it did ensure everything he wanted fell right into his hands with minimal effort. It would have to do. 

“Oh, yes,” he replied with an amicable chuckle. “Actually, I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on him.”

“Really?” Kamoshida raised a brow, obviously surprised. “Ms. Kawakami actually convinced you?”

“So you’ve heard,” Goro hummed, his smile a diorama of amused exasperation. He then sighed, running a hand through his hair without mussing a lock of it, and gave the man his best exhausted, pity-worthy gaze. “I don’t know a thing about him. I mean, as far as I know, he could be a danger to me _and_ this school. I don’t know how to even _begin_ to watch over him if I don’t know anything about him… not even a name yet. The wellbeing of everyone at this school _is_ my top priority, after all.”

Kamoshida nodded sympathetically, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “They’ve really put you in a tough position, huh?” As Goro nodded pitifully, Kamoshida glanced both ways down the hallway, stepping closer as the coast appeared clear. _Bingo_. “I’ll let you in on a little information,” the man said, voice low. “Come to my office. I’ve got everything you need to know.”

_Check and mate._

“Thank you very much, Mr. Kamoshida. This will be a _great_ help.” Goro tried not to let his grin stray beyond a pleasant smile as he followed Kamoshida to his office, garnering more than a few strange looks from students as he closed the door behind him. Rumors would fly as they often did at this school, but right now, Goro was bulletproof. 

It took only a few moments for Kamoshida to pull up the transfer student’s files sent by his old school, thanks to his (probably illegal) admin access. “Go crazy, kid. This one's a doozy.”

Goro tried not to look too eager as he took Kamoshida’s place in his desk chair. 

  
  
  


_Kurusu, Akira_

_DOB: 2000/1/1_

_Grade Average: 87.32_

_Disciplinary Infractions_

  * _2005/8/26 - disruption: third warning, time out_
  * _2006/2/14 - disruption: third warning, time out_
  * _2008/5/17 - verbal altercation, detention_
  * _2012/9/3 - verbal altercation, detention_
  * _2013/9/30 - physical altercation, warning_
  * _2016/2/23 - [extracurricular] aggravated assault, expulsion_
  * _Addendum (2016/4/10) - probation_



  
  
  


After this list came his medical records, which Goro had little interest in. He’d found exactly what he’d been looking for, and he’d have the ability to snoop for more later if he so desired. Akira Kurusu had _quite_ the history with disciplinary action. It was only a matter of time before he got in trouble with the law if his record began before he even reached grade 1. Oddly enough, there were no pictures accompanying any of the files, and a quick peek at his medical records revealed nothing about his height or build. For all Goro knew, he could be a 6-foot-something behemoth who could toss him like a sack of potatoes if he stepped out of line. While Goro wasn’t exactly a wimp thanks to his cycling and occasional bouldering, he wasn’t looking to pick a fight with someone larger than him. However, he wouldn’t hesitate to put someone like that in line before they even got the opportunity. 

“My… You weren’t kidding,” Goro hummed. “Well, I think that was all I needed to know. Thank you again, Mr. Kamoshida. I feel much better now that I know what I’m dealing with.” He stood from the chair, fixing his gloves, and smiled amicably at the other man. He knew Kamoshida’s ideal student (rather, subordinate)— meek, obedient, and polite— and though it pained him, it was very easy to fit that mold for the sake of getting what he wanted. None the wiser, Kamoshida grinned like the two of them were sharing some secret joke. 

“No problem, Akechi-kun. If he gives you any trouble, send him straight to me. I don’t really have time to deal with rabble like that, but people like us? We give this school its reputation— we have to stick together, eh?” Kamoshida’s grin was sickening even if his praise pleased Goro somewhere deep in his mind. They were empty words, anyway. 

“Of course,” Goro replied with his sweetest smile. _Polite and obedient._ He wanted to throw something.

As soon as he made it out the doorway, his smile dropped, lips twisting into the grimace he’d so wanted to display that entire, horrid time. Lovely. Goro _loved_ when his life became a living nightmare. He _loved_ being saddled with duties like a fucking donkey. This transfer _delinquent_ wouldn’t know what hit him— Goro would make that certain.

  
  


**———————**

_Dammit, Akira, you’re really in it now._ His chest was heaving as he hauled ass through the streets of Aoyama, the sky beginning to spit rain that smattered his glasses with tiny droplets. Truthfully, he had no earthly idea how to get to his school— he hadn’t really paid attention when Sojiro drove him there preemptively— and no landmarks were getting any more familiar. Maybe it was time to ask for help… He was probably too late to find any other Shujin students walking around, but he could probably do with asking someone else on the streets. 

The bag on his shoulder began to squirm before the disgruntled face of a cat poked through the zipper, Morgana’s claws digging into his shoulder as he stretched and surveyed their surroundings. As Akira took a sharp turn, Morgana yowled, his claws worsening their grip. “O-Ow! Mona, please don’t ruin my uniform before I even get there… we’ll be there soon, I promise,” he soothed. “And, please, don’t throw up in my— _whoa!”_

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

Akira stumbled after the collision, barely holding onto his bag as he gazed up at the girl in shock. Her blue eyes were narrowed, her stance defensive, and Akira held his hands up placatingly as soon as he regained his balance. “S-Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention, I-...” he trailed off, noting the familiar pattern on her skirt. _Shujin plaid._ This was his lucky break! As he opened his mouth to ask for directions to Shujin, her brows furrowed, her head tilting to one side as her blonde pigtails pooled over her shoulders.

“Do I… know you?” she asked softly, unsure. Her gaze tracked over his face, flicking briefly to his blazer— presumably to Shujin emblem on his breast pocket. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at Shujin, but…” Her lips pulled into a frown, her expression pained as she lifted a hand to cradle her forehead. “Sorry. I can’t help but feel like I—“

“Takamaki!”

The girl— Takamaki, apparently— whipped around toward the source of the voice. Akira followed her gaze to a car pulling up to the curb beside her, one window rolled down to reveal an older man with a bush of dark, curly hair at the wheel. Takamaki seemed to shrink in on herself.

“Need a ride?” The man spared a single glance in Akira’s direction, his attention largely focused on the girl beside him. _What was his deal?_ Her body language screamed discomfort, and Akira’s intuition was telling him something just wasn’t right. The whole situation was strange— Takamaki was on her way to school, right? So who was this guy? He was so much older than her, and referring to her so casually… Akira watched as Takamaki pulled her hood over her head, stepping out from under the eaves of the buildings that lined the street to open the passenger door. Akira felt frozen in place, the words he wanted to say caught in his throat. Takamaki met his eyes as the car began to pull into traffic, something empty in her eyes making Akira’s stomach roil as the tinted window rolled up and obscured her face. 

The sound of rapid, heavy footsteps splashed toward him from his left, and he whipped around toward the source— just in time for the man’s car to speed through a puddle, splashing Akira head to toe. He gasped, stumbling only to lose his footing and come crashing to the ground. He managed to whip his bag off his shoulder with what remaining brain power he had left, ensuring he didn’t crush Morgana as he landed directly in another puddle. _Perfect._ This day _really_ couldn’t get any better. If Akira didn’t have the emotional regulation of a tissue, he’d probably cry. Cold water was soaking into every article of clothing he owned, and the sky seemed to spite him, as the rain then began to fall faster. 

“Shit, dude!” The footsteps came to a stop beside him, scuffed sneakers soaked with rainwater stopping just in his line of sight where he moped pathetically on the ground. “Are you okay?”

Akira heaved himself onto his ass, feeling water run down his back. “I could be better,” he replied weakly, blinking as an outstretched hand entered his view. He followed the arm up to the concerned face of a blond boy about his age, his brows knitted. He gave the boy a grateful smile as he took the hand offered, hauling himself to his feet as he hoisted his bag over his shoulder— _Huh..?_ Akira furrowed his brow, testing the weight of his bag. Empty. _Morgana?_

“Effin’ Kamoshida, always-“

The boy was talking, but his words fell on deaf ears. Morgana was gone. When did he get out of Akira’s bag? _How_ did he get out? Where could he be? Tokyo was a scary place, full of crowds and cars. Morgana might have lived on the streets before, but not in Aoyama. He’d be cold and wet and scared and lost and—

“-like he’s the _king of the castle—..._ Dude? You okay?” The boy was staring at him with concern again, waving a hand in front of his eyes. Akira realized he wasn’t breathing.

“My cat,” he managed, eyes wide as he scanned the surroundings for any flash of black and white he could see.

“Your… cat?” The boy blinked owlishly, as if he didn’t know what a cat was. _Where was Morgana?_ “Uh… did you hit your head on the way down or somethin’?”

“N-No, I had a cat in my bag,” Akira replied breathlessly, beginning to jog to the nearest alleyway and ignoring every person he cut in front of to do so. He could hear the other boy following close behind. “He’s my— my support animal, I guess, but I— we have to find him.” The alley was dark and damp, and Akira splashed through murky puddles to check behind the lone dumpster against one wall. 

“Dude, it’s 7:50 now,” the boy replied insistently. _What did 7:50 have anything to do with his cat?_ “School is starting _literally_ now. It’s just through this alley— this is a shortcut. Can’t you just… I dunno, come back after school?” Right— the boy _was_ wearing Shujin slacks. Well, at least he knew where the school was— _oh no. 7:50._ God, he was going to be so late on his first day… He couldn’t _afford_ to be late— Sojiro would throw him out if he caused any trouble on probation, not to mention the fact that Shujin would probably boot him, too. 

“I can’t,” Akira replied, fists clenched at his sides. Anxiety coiled around his insides like a snake, making him feel ill. “I might never find him again if I leave now. You don’t have to stay. Just go, okay?”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Nah, man, you need help! I’m stayin’. If I go now, I’ll see Kamoshida’s stupid mug at the front gates, and I won’t be able to hold back.” He scowled, squaring his shoulders and clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. “He splashed you and made you lose your cat all so he could give his little _girlfriend_ a ride to school.”

_Kamoshida? Girlfriend?_ “Who’s Kamoshida?”

The boy looked at him as if he had just sprouted another head. “Come on, dude, quit messin’ with me,” he said with a scowl. “You go to Shujin, don’t you?”

“It’s my first day,” Akira explained, watching the other boy’s eyes blow wide with realization.

“ _Oh!_ Well, why didn’t you tell me sooner? Man, I just thought you were being weird.” The boy grinned, holding out his hand in greeting. “The name’s Sakamoto. Ryuji.”

Though Morgana was still at the forefront of Akira’s racing mind, he would at least take the time to introduce himself to the guy who would probably be his first friend at his new school. “Kurusu. Akira Kurusu.”

Recognition flashed in Sakamoto’s eyes. _Uh oh._ “Yo… Are you the new transfer student?” _Ah._ Akira expected rumors to fly once he arrived, not _before._ How did anything about him get leaked to the student body? Wasn’t it confidential?

“Yep,” he replied awkwardly, popping the ‘ _p’._ “That’s me.”

Ryuji’s expression turned sympathetic. _Oh, no, that’s an even worse sign…_ “Don’t let the rumors get to you, yeah? I mean, they were already flyin’ like no tomorrow on Saturday. But, seein’ ya now… I kinda doubt you held up a convenience store at knifepoint.”

_What the fuck?_

“What.” It was more of a statement than a question— Akira’s voice was flat, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, I mean, I thought it was pretty ridiculous,” Ryuji continued, heedless of the fact that Akira _really_ didn’t want to hear anymore. “Some people said you stabbed a guy. I also heard someone say you robbed an art museum? That shit was weird, but… I can tell you’re a good guy.” He smiled in a bright, crooked sort of way that signaled that not many gears were turning in that brain of his. “This place can get nasty real quick. One wrong move and you’re just trash to the whole damn school.” Sakamoto’s bright expression fell, replaced by a bitter scowl, and something in his eye that told Akira this was personal. “Anyway, we should look for your cat? Uh… what’s his name?”

“Morgana.”

Sakamoto blinked. Akira really didn’t have time to explain the origins of his cat’s odd name while he was currently missing and Akira was late for school. Thankfully, it appeared Sakamoto didn’t care to ask. “Huh. Well, okay. You wanna take the street back there while I check around the school gates? We can meet back up here.”

Akira nodded, relieved to finally be starting his search, and turned back the way he came to scour the streets for Morgana. Occasionally, he’d check his watch, seeing the minutes tick away, and with it, his chance to stay at Shujin. 8 AM came and went, then 8:30 and 9:00. He met up with Sakamoto at 9:30, both lamenting their lateness and splitting for one more half-hour of searching. Akira had made his second trip all the way back to the subway when he heard familiar footsteps and a voice call “Hey! Dude! I found Monamona!”

Akira spun around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, his eyes widening as he spotted a soggy ball of black and white fur and two sad blue eyes peering out at him from Sakamoto’s arms. “Morgana!

“Uh, yeah,” Sakamoto said quickly, “that’s what I meant.”

“Where was he? Agh, he’s all wet…”

Sakamoto nodded in the direction he came. “Back by the school gates hiding near some vending machines. Scratched the hell outta me when I tried to grab him, but he looks fine. Guess he got spooked when you fell.”

Akira took off his blazer, lining the inside of his bag with it before gently lifting Morgana from Sakamoto’s arms. Once he nestled Morgana securely in the bag and wrapped his jacket around his shivering form, he zipped it halfway and pulled it securely over his shoulder once more. “Thanks, Sakamoto… Really. We should go.”

“Just call me Ryuji. None of that formal shit. But… You’re still seriously considerin’ showin’ up to school?” Ryuji asked incredulously. “I mean, you’re _soaked_. And we’re _way_ late.”

“I have to,” Akira sighed, shaking his head. It barely registered to him that he was still soaked through to the skin, his pants and shirt darkened with water and stained with who knows what was in that puddle water… But he _had_ to show up, and going back home to change was out of the question. He’d only be even more late with Sojiro on his ass to top it all off. “I’m pushing my luck as it is.”

“Well, I’ll be there to vouch for you,” Ryuji promised sincerely, brows set in determination. “I dunno how seriously they’ll take me, but they gotta see the truth, seein’ as you’re soaked an’ all. Maybe that effin’ Kamoshida will actually apologize.” Ryuji chuckled dryly at his own words, as if he didn’t believe them. “Now that’s a sight to see. But, uh… we should get going.”

“Right.”

The pair wove their way through the crowd, deftly avoiding a pair of police officers as they ducked into the alleyway that would deposit them right at the school gates.

“I mean, it could be worse,” Ryuji piped up as they crossed the road toward the steps.

Akira had no idea how it could have been any worse, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, what,” he began, lifting his wrist to check his watch, “it’s only…” his stomach plummeted, his eyes widening as his brain really registered the time for the first time that morning. He picked up the pace, taking the stairs two at a time. _He was so dead._ _“Oh, shit, it’s—“_

  
  


**———————**

  
  


9:45. According to Goro’s watch, Akira Kurusu was late by exactly one hour and fifty-five minutes. His precious free period was ticking away by the second while he waited by the entrance for that delinquent to finally _grace_ Shujin with his presence. This was all a waste of Goro’s goddamn time. He should have known someone like that wouldn’t even bother to show up. Perhaps he dropped out. Now _that_ would be a blessing. 

The sound of shoes against concrete alerted Goro to someone’s rapid approach to the front doors. He cocked his hip, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched as the doors burst open only to reveal Ryuji Sakamoto and a boy he did not recognize. He was fairly bland in appearance, a mop of wild back curls atop his head nearly obscuring his large-framed glasses; it wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t made an impression on Goro before. Furthermore, he was likely a second year like his companion, so Goro wouldn’t have had any reason to remember him unless he was a repeat offender like Sakamoto. Nonetheless, Goro would learn his name soon enough, only to promptly forget it once more. He didn’t particularly care. 

“Outta the way, Akechi,” Sakamoto snarled, baring his teeth like a dog. Goro thought he should be muzzled. 

“You two are awfully late,” Goro hummed, ignoring Sakamoto’s comment entirely. “It’s strange to see you with a companion. I would have thought you’d run everyone off by now.”

Sakamoto bristled even further, and Goro had to swallow his grin. “I _said_ outta the way! We get it— we’re late. We just wanna go to class.”

Goro cocked his head to the side, giving them both a pity-filled pout. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. Not until I get your names.”

“What are you, the hall monitor?”

“For today. Now, I know _you,_ Sakamoto-kun,” Goro hummed, pulling a notepad of blue late slips from his pocket. “Sakamoto, Ryuji… Year 2… Class 2-F… And it is currently… 9:47. Here you are.” He signed the slip with a flourish, ripped it from the pad, and held it out for Sakamoto with a sweet smile. The blond snatched it from Goro’s hand, promptly crumpling it and shoving it in his pocket. 

“They don’t need a damn piece of paper to see I’m late.”

“Suit yourself,” Goro replied evenly, turning that saccharine smile on the quiet boy. “And you. Who might you be..? My apologies— there are so many students at this school that I simply can’t keep track.” It was all formality, really. He didn’t particularly care whether this boy felt left out or not. “It’s just, with people like Sakamoto-kun here… we have a reason to be acquainted, what with his antics.” He leaned forward, winking as if he were sharing a secret with a friend. The boy blinked slate grey eyes, expression unreadable as he slouched with his hands in his pockets. Tough crowd. Or perhaps he was just stupid.

“Kurusu Akira,” the boy finally replied. Goro’s breath caught in his throat. “It’s my first day— I, ah… I don’t know if I should find the faculty office, or…” he trailed off, one hand coming up to absently swirl a black curl between his fingers. _This_ was the transfer student? The one with an aggravated assault charge? This boy was around Goro’s height and build, perhaps just a tad heavier than he. He was far from the hulking man Goro had pictured based on his disciplinary record. Pulling his face into some semblance of pleasant normalcy, he began to write Kurusu’s details on a late slip.

“Kurusu, Akira… Year 2, class 2-D. 9:48.” He ripped the slip away and held it out to the wide-eyed delinquent, his brain still not quite processing that this boy was _really_ Akira Kurusu. While he was rather tall, it didn’t seem he could put up a fight even if he wanted to. Well, they _did_ say it was always the quiet ones...

“Aw, c’mon, man, you’re gonna give him a tardy?” Sakamoto fumed, hands balled at his side as he stomped one foot toward Goro. Goro held his ground, raising a brow. “It’s his _first day!_ And we’re only late because stupid Kamoshida splashed him and made him lose his cat!” Curiously, Kurusu stiffened, his eyes going wide beneath his bangs. He whipped around to face Sakamoto, setting his jaw and giving the blond boy a look that clearly screamed _don’t say another word_. Sakamoto seemed to get this through his thick skull, his jaw dropping as he stiffened as well. How intriguing.

“Cat?” Goro asked innocently, cocking his head. It initially seemed to him to be a statement meant to distract him. However, as he took in Kurusu’s disheveled appearance and damp clothes, he gave them the benefit of the doubt. _Just_ slightly. As if on cue, Kurusu’s bag began to squirm before a fluffy black head poked up through the zipper, shaking until its fur puffed out before fixing strikingly blue eyes on Goro. He blinked. Well. It appeared they were telling the truth. “Oh,” he said lamely. “A cat.”

“Morgana,” Kurusu gasped, eyes wide as he fixed the cat with a horror-filled gaze. “I told you not to come out!” he then fixed that same distressed gaze on Goro, full of dread. “He got out of my bag this morning. Ryuji helped me find him. He’s…” Kurusu shifted from foot to foot, worrying at his lip as if weighing his next words. “He’s my support animal. I’m working on his paperwork— I can get it in tomorrow. Just… please let me keep him.” Much to his surprise, Kurusu seemed genuinely distressed at the very notion of being unable to keep his cat on his person. Goro pursed his lips, eyes lingering on Kurusu for a moment before they drifted to the cat— Morgana, apparently. It yawned, butted its head against Kurusu’s, and nestled back into the bag. Upon further inspection, Goro noticed what appeared to be Kurusu’s blazer wrapped around the cat. Pets were strictly prohibited on school grounds. However, Goro felt himself falter each time he considered telling Kurusu as much. _Why?_

“Keep it out of sight,” he said shortly, ignoring the way Kurusu’s resulting incredulous smile caught his attention. He sighed, plastered on his most saccharine smile, and waved the late pass insistently in front of Kurusu. The boy seemed to remember Goro had been holding it out for the better part of five minutes and sheepishly took it. “Welcome to Shujin Academy,” Goro chirped, sickeningly sweet. Kurusu gave him a nod, shoving his hands back in his pockets, and smiled, seemingly unaware of Goro’s false cheer. 

As they passed by him to head for the stairs, Sakamoto brushed his shoulder roughly, giving him a rather impressive stink eye before continuing to lead Kurusu toward the staircase. The latter boy spared a single glance over his shoulder before disappearing around a corner, a white-tipped tail waving from his bag like a flag. Goro puffed out a heavy breath, pressed his back against the nearest wall, and drug his hands down his face. A _cat?_ Goro let the delinquent transfer student keep a _cat_ in the building? What the hell was wrong with him? Perhaps it was simply because Kurusu’s entire demeanor had thrown him off kilter. Yes, that had to be it. Goro straightened, checked his watch, and sighed— 9:55. His free period was over in five minutes. 

As Goro made his way to his classroom early, Kurusu never left his mind. 


	2. Chapter 2

“God,” Akira sighed out, shaking his head as he stared at Ryuji in disbelief. “How is someone like that still working at this school?”

Ryuji scowled down at the ground, kicking a pebble near his foot as if it had personally offended him. It bounced and pinged off the side of a courtyard vending machine with a metallic  _ clang _ . “ _ Everybody  _ just _ loves _ Kamoshida. They act like he’s some kinda damn savior just because he won an Olympic medal or some shit!”

Akira scrubbed his hands down his face— suddenly he felt like he needed to sit down. Or punch something. Or both. Not only was Kamoshida a massive douche with an even bigger ego, he was a predator and an abuser. Still, it seemed like there was more Ryuji wasn’t telling him— maybe something personal. He wasn’t a member of the volleyball team, nor did he seem to be friends with anyone on it… For now, Akira wouldn’t press. 

“I mean… I don’t got proof or anything— nothin’ anyone would admit to or even believe ‘cause they think Kamoshida is  _ so great _ ,” Ryuji continued, curling his lip in disgust. “I mean, I see the way he looks at all those girls like they’re a piece of meat, and all those guys are always comin’ back from practice with new injuries and shit. I just… Ugh! Dammit!” The blond seemed to be nearly shaking with frustration, his knuckles white as he gave the ground another stomp.

“Let’s get proof, then,” Akira replied, watching as Ryuji whipped around to face him with wide eyes. “You mentioned Takamaki. The one that got into Kamoshida’s car today.”

“She’s not gonna tell us shit. She’s his little lapdog,” he said bitterly, crossing his arms with a scowl.

Somehow, Akira highly doubted that. “I’m not so sure,” he began, pursing his lips. “Maybe it’s just me, but… I have a feeling something’s not right. I mean… something about her seemed off when I saw her this morning— when Kamoshida called her name. It was like she was afraid.” He couldn’t get that image out of his head, Takamaki stiffening and her eyes growing wide as Kamoshida invited her into his car.

Ryuji frowned, casting his eyes away. “Man,” he sighed, “I never even thought of it like that. I just thought she was, like, willingly goin’ with it, y’know?”

Akira swallowed thickly. The thought of Takamaki being so afraid that she appeared complicit… it explained the whispers he heard about her from classmates in his brief time in class— she sat right in front of him. Luckily, Akira took the brunt of most of the negative attention— he was the exciting new story, after all. “Is there anyone we can get in on this? I mean, other people at this school  _ have  _ to see this and think it’s wrong, right? Like… is there a student council or anything?”

Ryuji snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets as he rolled his eyes. “Kiss-ups. All of ‘em. I mean, you met Akechi. He’s the VP. There’s no way in hell he’s gonna talk to us.”

Akira certainly  _ did _ meet Akechi. He wasn’t surprised to learn the guy was the student council VP— he cut an imposing figure with a handsome face and sleek black clothes from head to toe. Aside from the fact that he clearly caved for some unknown reason and let Akira keep Morgana, he was, to put it lightly, a bitch. That sickly sweet smile reminded him of that western flick he’d watched with old friends… Rude Girls or something..? Still… something about Akechi intrigued Akira, beyond the pretty face and the impressive fakeness. Again, his intuition was telling him  _ something,  _ but he didn’t know what. He wouldn’t write Akechi off— he wanted to get to know him. “Wouldn’t hurt to try,” he said finally, drawing another snort from Ryuji.

“You really are strange, huh? I kinda like it.” Ryuji grinned, bright as sunshine, and Akira smiled right back.

“That’s my only selling point.” He winked, sending Ryuji into giggles, and the two of them tittered until passing students gave them odd looks from the courtyard sidewalk.

“For real, though,” Ryuji began once he’d calmed down and caught his breath, “you think we should ask Ann first?”

“Ann?”

Ryuji cringed. “Takamaki. Sorry. We were friends in middle school. But, uh… you think she’s our best bet?”

Akira considered this for a moment before nodding. She likely had a wealth of information, and if she were approached by two people who actually cared about the situation, she might be more likely to spill. However, being approached by two known delinquents seemingly out of nowhere was  _ probably  _ not the move. They should ease into it, somehow. “I think so. But we shouldn’t corner her. She’ll shut down if we do that. Plus, I doubt she’ll be very receptive of me, considering the rumors. Let’s wait a bit, scope it out, and then make a move.”

“Hey… not a bad idea!” Ryuji brightened. “Good thinkin’, Chief. So… I guess that’s it then. Just lay low until the time is right… Makes me feel like some sorta spy.”

Akira cracked a little smile. “Or a thief.”

“Yo! Thieves are so much cooler!”

_ Thieves, huh?  _ Akira blinked, the sudden feeling of deja vu overtaking him. He could have sworn… nah. Deja vu always happens to him in the dumbest moments, like seeing his noodles slip out of his chopsticks and feeling like he’d done it before in a dream. It was nothing.

But it did sound pretty cool.

  
  


**———————**

  
  


So far, Kurusu had done  _ nothing _ . He came to school on time, went to his classes, kept that cat out of sight, and even studied in the library after school when he wasn’t shooting the breeze with Sakamoto in the courtyard. He took every rumor thrown at him in stride, seemingly unaffected as whole groups parted when he approached and dirty looks followed him wherever he went. The only word that came to mind when Goro thought of it was… fascinating. It was  _ fascinating  _ that someone apparently so combative, so potentially dangerous, was just acting like a normal, honest student. Goro could hardly believe it— in fact, he  _ didn’t  _ believe it. Kurusu obviously had something planned, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. All those rumors would leave one so anxious, so unstable… he was up to something, and it was only a matter of time before he snapped. Did Goro have any evidence? No. But he could easily get some. His sole job was to keep an eye on him, after all. 

So, wherever Kurusu went, Goro wasn’t far behind. They had lunch at the same time, after all, and Goro could always use a study session in the library after school before going home. Goro needed to run errands after school, so today, he’d suffice for observing him from a distance at lunch. He’d relish in the moment he could drag the trash out of Shujin himself. 

Goro had packed himself a meager lunch with whatever he could find in the refrigerator and the pantry, which was to say he didn’t pack much. He left the better pickings for his mother and took what was left— a cup of instant noodles and a bowl of strawberries. As he checked his student account, he found his balance to be a very even ¥0. Cool. So, instant noodles and strawberries it was. He still had pocket change from tutoring, so he treated himself to an interesting soda from the vending machine, then sat down strategically so Kurusu was directly in his line of sight.

It was unusually warm out for spring, so each class had spread out in the courtyard with their food, eating in groups on the grass or sitting on benches and open spots on the sidewalk. Kurusu chose to sit in the grass, and Goro noticed how every other student gave him a wide berth. There was a considerable amount of open space all around him, though it seemed he didn’t mind. He’d set his bag down, unzipped enough for two small ears to poke through, and it wasn’t exactly subtle when he snuck a few small pieces of cheap sushi into a waiting mouth in that bag. As for Kurusu’s own lunch, it appeared to be… curry? There was a thermos beside him, probably full of some hot drink, and—

Kurusu picked up his head as if he sensed someone watching him, locked eyes with Goro, and smiled. Goro’s eyes widened, a strawberry halfway to his mouth.  _ Fuck _ . Goro gave him a quick smile back and looked away, but before he could go back to pretending he wasn’t watching Akira eat, he heard a low “Akechi-kun!”  _ What the fuck?  _ He carefully glanced back, seeing more than a few people staring as Kurusu waved him over, smiling that aggravatingly genuine smile. He had the audacity to practically scream Goro’s name across the courtyard for all to hear— without formality, either. Would it have killed Kurusu to address him as  _ senpai _ until they knew each other better? Not that they  _ were _ going to get to know each other. He wanted nothing to do with Kurusu unless it was seeing him out of this school for the very last time. Goro delicately packed up his lunch, plastered on a smile, and walked past groups of whispering students wondering what exactly that delinquent wanted with their student council VP. Goro wished he fucking knew. 

“Yes? How can I help you, Kurusu-kun?” he said sweetly, smiling down at Kurusu in the grass. 

“You can sit down, you know. I feel like I’m talking to a giraffe,” Kurusu replied with a chuckle. Goro’s expression faltered.  _ What was he scheming? _ Nonetheless, he felt compelled to do as Kurusu requested for now, setting his lunchbox down as he folded his legs underneath himself and settled into the grass adjacent to the other boy.  _ If he had grass stains on his clothes after this, he was not going to be happy.  _ “I just… well…” Suddenly, that strange confidence was gone, Kurusu averting his gaze and smiling sheepishly. “You just looked lonely. I wasn’t sure if you wanted company or not.”

What.

Goro looked  _ lonely _ ? It was laughable that  _ that  _ was the only reason Kurusu beckoned him over. Kurusu himself was  _ far _ more lonely than he. Certainly he wouldn’t put Goro’s feelings above his own; he was a criminal, and they didn’t know each other at all. “Thank you, really,” Goro began slowly, as if talking to a small child, “but I assure you I am  _ not  _ lonely. But… I do appreciate the sentiment.” 

“Is that why you kept looking over here at me?” Goro froze. Kurusu cocked a brow, then his smile softened. “I won’t press. I just thought there wasn’t any harm in asking you to eat with me, seeing as you were sitting alone. Did I see strawberries in your lunch?” 

“Yes,” Goro answered carefully, his brain still processing the fact that Kurusu apparently knew he was snooping and still invited him over. 

“I love strawberries,” Kurusu hummed, as if Goro cared. He watched as the other boy scooped up a big bite of rice and curry, enjoying it with gusto.  _ Curry? Who eats curry for lunch at school? _ Despite the fact the Goro had never tried curry in his life, his mouth watered looking at the heaping plate of it. Strangely, it smelled sweet alongside that telltale heat. “I’m not one for sweets, but I cave for strawberries.” 

“Do you now,” Goro replied mindlessly, ripping his attention away from the curry to discreetly open his lunch box. He didn’t want Kurusu seeing that he’d only packed  _ strawberries  _ and  _ cup ramen _ . But should he really be the one who’s embarrassed? No—  _ Kurusu  _ was the one bringing a fucking restaurant curry meal to school like he was  _ so  _ special. His parents probably lovingly made it for him this morning— or, better yet, he actually  _ did  _ stop by a restaurant and order it for himself like some spoiled brat. As Goro tried not to yank the strawberries from their container, he eyed that curry with distaste and—  _ oh no.  _ Goro’s traitorous stomach growled, his eyes widening in horror. Kurusu blinked, pausing the thermos (which smelled a whole lot like coffee) just as it reached his lips. God _ dammit.  _ Of all the embarrassing shit that could have happened, Goro just  _ had  _ to make himself look like he was yearning for Kurusu’s stupid fucking curry. Really, it was Kurusu’s fault in the first place.  _ He  _ was the one who invited Goro over, probably just to parade his decadent lunch around and rub it all in Goro’s face. Except… why would he do that if he didn’t know about Goro's home situation? Unless he did. Unless he could tell— like he could  _ smell _ it on Goro. Did he look different today? Unkempt? Wrinkled? He’d ironed his clothes and brushed his hair— what gave it away? He—

“Want some?”

_ Huh? _

“I-I beg your pardon?”

“Want some curry? I don’t mind. Take as much as you want. It’s really good, and not all that spicy. I can’t really take the heat.” Kurusu offered him a lopsided grin, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Goro could only stare back like a deer in the headlights. It seemed Kurusu thought he’d made a wrong step, as he began to titter nervously and backpedal. “I-I mean, you can use your own fork and get some from the side I haven’t touched yet. I promise I don’t have cooties. Neither does Morgana.” There was a soft  _ mew _ from Kurusu’s bag. “My guardian helped me make it this morning. There’s honey in it. You’re not allergic to honey, are you? Is that even a thing?”

“No,” Goro butted in before Kurusu could spew any more word vomit, “I’m not allergic. Really, I’m alright. I have my own lunch.” He didn’t want a fucking pity party for his stupid lunch. He already felt ill about it as it was. 

“You’re welcome to have some. You don’t even have to have that much. Actually, it’s pretty rich, so a lot goes a long way. But, again, you don’t  _ have  _ to—“

“ _ Fine _ ,” Goro half-hissed, his facade crumbling because Kurusu would  _ not shut up.  _ He took a moment to take a breath and expertly school his expression and tone back to his  _ favorite  _ pleasant neutral, then dug his fork from his bag and smiled. He was pretty sure his eye was twitching. “Let me try some.” 

Kurusu seemed wholly confused, but the idiot still smiled warmly as if it made him the happiest guy in the world for Goro to try his stupid curry. It probably wasn’t even that good. “It’s best if you get an even ratio of rice to curry—“

Goro didn’t care. It was fucking curry. The rice and the curry all went to the same place, so it didn’t fucking matter how you ate it. He unceremoniously scooped up a messy forkful, brought it to his lips, and took a delicate bite of just half the curry on his fork. See? He was right. It wasn’t even… Oh...  _ Oh.  _ It was sweet, savory, tangy, just a tad bit spicy, the texture smooth and buttery with some soft, cooked vegetables… Goro immediately shoved the rest of the bite in his mouth, eating like he was a starved man.  _ God, it was so good…  _ He didn’t realize he’d made a rather embarrassing noise as he indulged until Kurusu began to laugh. He cracked one eye open, curiously seeing color bloom high on Kurusu’s cheeks, and Goro nearly choked on his delicious mouthful. 

He normally viewed food as something that would get him from day to day. It was fuel for his body and let him survive to tomorrow— nothing more. It wasn’t as if he didn’t  _ enjoy  _ good food when he got it— he did. He just didn’t often get food to enjoy. Much of his childhood was spent wolfing down any meal (usually frozen and reheated) he could get his hands on, as they came sparingly. Now that he and his mother were just a bit more well off, he could afford to splurge occasionally, but even then it was more to have a conversation piece than anything. If he appeared higher class, others would believe it. But if he had access to this curry more often… perhaps he’d  _ love  _ food rather than just  _ like  _ it.

“Good, huh?” Kurusu prompted, and Goro could hear the smile in his voice. He was too busy shoveling the next bite in his mouth to care.

“Mmfph,” he mumbled eloquently, chewing slowly as he savored the dish. He didn’t even care when Kurusu began to laugh softly, but he startled out of his daze once something cool and smooth was pressed into his hands. He cracked one eye open, swallowed, and cocked his head to the side. “What is…?”

“Coffee,” Kurusu replied easily as if it was the most logical conclusion to reach. 

“Coffee..? With curry?” Goro cocked an unimpressed brow, and Kurusu began to laugh, waving his hands as if to dispel Goro’s reservations from the very air. Kurusu laughed like everything in the world was hilarious to him.  _ What a clown. _

“It’s really good, I promise. Something about… the one flavor the curry lacks is that bitterness coffee can provide. It just… rounds it all out. Take a sip— I promise this will be the best coffee you’ve ever had,” he hummed proudly.  _ Interesting.  _ “A-And I promise I haven’t had a sip yet!”

Goro shook his head, strangely more amused by this whole situation than anything, and began to unscrew the lid on the thermos. “And what if your promise just doesn’t work out?”

“Huh?”

Goro took a whiff of the coffee— admittedly, it smelled wonderful. Perhaps even more so than Frostbucks… But,  _ he _ would be the judge of that. “What if it isn’t as good as you promised it would be?”

“Well…” Kurusu seemed entirely unfazed by the question, twirling his hair as if he were truly considering it. “I’ll just have to eat my left shoe.”

Goro couldn’t help it— he let out a genuine guffaw, ugly and real, and before he could slap a hand over his mouth and stare in horror, Kurusu began to laugh, too. It was as if he didn’t even hear the repulsive noise. Either that, or he simply didn’t care.  _ This boy just got stranger and stranger, didn’t he? _ “I’ll be holding you to that,” Goro hummed, raising a brow at Kurusu’s smug smile. It was as if he already knew he’d won this bet… Goro never backed down from a challenge, so he lifted the thermos to his lips and tipped the coffee back, and—  _ Oh. It couldn’t be… _ He’d barely gotten that first sip down before he was tipping the thermos back again, forgetting himself and taking a greedy gulp before forcing himself to put it down. He had to sit and savor it for a moment as he screwed the lid back on, afraid of what Akira’s expression might look like. The coffee was clearly black— no sugar or cream in sight. Despite the fact that Goro had rarely been able to choke down coffee without any cream in the past, this coffee was  _ delicious _ . It was smooth with the bitter bite all coffees had, but with its own underlying creaminess that softened the tang. It was… It was—

“Good, huh?” Akira broke the silence, and Goro could hear the grin in his voice. He swallowed, delicately pushed the thermos back into Akira’s hands, and sighed. It was. It really was… Truthfully, he wished he had more as his tongue darted out to catch the lingering taste on his lips. There would be absolutely no _way_ he could go back to that shitty instant coffee at home he refilled his Frostbucks cup with every morning. Hell, he’d be lucky if he could even tolerate the taste of _real_ _Frostbucks_ after that. 

Reluctantly, Goro nodded as he drew a napkin from his lunch box and delicately dabbed at his lips with it while he attempted to regain his dignity and composure. He must have looked absolutely insane, melting after a bite of curry and two sips of coffee. Speaking of… Insufferably, Kurusu was right about the coffee complementing the curry. It was the perfect meal. “Yes,” he sighed out, “I suppose you’ll be keeping your left shoe. For now.”

“I’ll bring you some more tomorrow. It’s pretty much all I have at home.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll— pardon?” Surely Goro hadn’t heard correctly. Kurusu definitely  _ wasn’t  _ bringing him coffee and curry. Why would he do that? It’s preposterous. They weren’t  _ friends.  _ They were barely acquaintances. Did Kurusu truly pity him that much? Or perhaps he was going to taint it— put laxatives or something in it while he thought he’d gained Goro’s complete trust. Well, he was  _ wrong _ . Goro  _ didn’t  _ trust him— he was no fool. Except… When he looked up, he could sense no ill-intention, no smug satisfaction in Kurusu’s expression. No, he could only detect… hope? Anticipation? Was this poor fool trying to make  _ friends? _ Perhaps he was planning on using Goro to reach higher echelons— to drop him only once he’d climbed high enough at Goro’s side to shed those rumors flying around him and gain Shujin’s favor. Goro wasn’t a tool, either.  _ No one  _ would use him. But… two could play at that game. Goro was  _ excellent  _ at this game, actually.  _ He  _ would gain Kurusu’s trust.  _ He  _ would get Kurusu to expose his true self. And then Goro would have the satisfaction of being the one to walk him right out of Shujin once he’d gotten enough first-hand testimony to expel him.  _ Yes…  _ Kurusu would play into  _ his  _ hands.

“— just thinking, since you enjoyed it and all… Um… Y-You did enjoy it, right? I’m not making that up? Wishful thinking, huh? Ahaha…” Apparently Kurusu had been talking for a while before Goro tuned back into the real world. Goro’s silence must have made him uncomfortable, as the poor thing began to stammer and falter. Goro held up a hand to silence him, smiling sweetly as he put on his most inviting, guard-dropping expression. One could call it  _ cute _ and be absolutely correct. 

“I would love that, Kurusu-kun. You’re so generous.”

Kurusu’s cheeks grew pink. “Aw… Nah, it’s just… Well, thank you,” he tittered, twirling his hair once more. “Also, you can call me Akira. If you want. I’ve… never really been one for formality, y’know? Plus, I don’t really… Never mind. Just call me Akira, Akechi-senpai.”

Ah.  _ There  _ was the senpai. It was almost painfully obvious that Kur—  _ Akira  _ was buttering him up for something. Goro laughed saccharinely, covering his mouth delicately. “If you insist, Akira. In that case, please call me Akechi. Or Goro, if you prefer. I’m not one for formalities, either. Too much unnecessary distance, hm?” He watched as Akira’s eyes brightened behind thick frames, his lips twitching into a grin. 

“Got it, Goro… Um…” Akira’s brows furrowed, his gaze darting away as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He acted as if Goro’s given name left a strange taste in his mouth. “Akechi… Uh, can I just call you Akechi for now?” he asked sheepishly, “I guess I’m not used to skipping over so many honorifics at once.”

“Well, you  _ did  _ skip ‘senpai’ and go straight to ‘kun’ the first time,” Goro mused with an amused smile. Akira’s eyes widened in horror.

“Did I? I’m sorry, I just… Something about you was approachable, I guess. I forgot you were a third year, senpai. Uh— Akechi.” Curiously, Akira actually seemed apologetic. And… nervous? Goro cocked his head, shaking it and offering a smile.

“It’ll come easier with time. For now, I think I should be going,” he replied easily, “I need to get to my next class early.” He didn’t— he had simply exhausted his small talk tolerance for the moment. Giving Akira a small smile, he gathered up his own lunch and stood, gently brushing grass from his slacks, and spun on his heel as he straightened his blazer. “I’ll see you later, Akira.”

“Do you like chocolate?”

Goro froze, furrowing his brow.  _ What kind of question was that?  _ Glancing over his shoulder, he gazed at a wide-eyed, almost sheepish looking Akira. “Yes, I suppose I do,” Goro replied carefully, “Why? Planning to give me a gift like an admirer?” he continued with a wry smile, taking pleasure in a secret jab thinly veiled as good-natured teasing. Much to his surprise, Akira began to laugh softly. 

“I mean, I would, but it looks like you get enough from your fan club as it is,” he teased. “Chocolate is another ingredient you can use to make curry. I just wanted to know if that was something you’d like in your curry when I bring it tomorrow.”

“Ah,” Goro hummed, deciding to humor him for a moment. He doubted Akira would actually go through the trouble to bring him freshly made curry as he’d get nothing in return. It wasn’t like  _ Goro’s smile _ was a worthy payment— this wasn’t a fucking romcom. “Yes, I suppose I’d like that. You’re the curry master here. Surprise me.”

Something flared in Akira’s eyes then— a challenge, perhaps? There was more to this quiet boy than meets the eye, it seemed. Goro wanted to know what else would ignite that fire… Some part of him wanted to make Akira angry just to see that look again, to show Akira that he doesn’t have Goro wrapped around his finger. Perhaps he’d refuse the curry tomorrow. Ah, but that would make Goro the asshole, wouldn’t it? And perhaps Akira wouldn’t even get mad— what if instead he grew broken-hearted? Hm. Then… Goro could feign allergy— no, no, he ate the curry today… He’s simply too full? No, because he would have known not to eat if Akira was going to bring him something… Perhaps he could just hide out in the library. But… If Akira was bringing curry, he  _ could _ have enough to save some for his mother… that was free food.  _ Gah,  _ he’d just take the goddamn curry and spare Akira his petty little feelings. Why did Goro give damn about them, anyway? “Brave,” Akira hummed, that sparkle still lingering in his eye as Goro shook himself from his reverie. “How’s your spice tolerance?”

“Nonexistent,” Goro deadpanned.

Akira’s eyes lit up with a different kind of sparkle as he began to laugh, his whole frame shaking. “Okay, no spicy then. Noted.” And then he softened, his grin quieting to a little smile and making something stir in Goro’s stomach. “You should get to class. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Goro blinked, then blinked again, and attempted to reboot himself. He’d never had a reason outside of academics to see someone regularly. Though he was surrounded by admirers and rivals alike on a daily basis, he couldn’t think of a single person he could call a  _ friend _ . He tutored some struggling students and humored others who fawned over him with sweet smiles and short conversations, but none of them were closer than arms’ length— usually further, as Goro wasn’t keen on entertaining friendships. Too much give and take. In his experience, one can only give so much until others have taken everything, and what does that leave? Nothing good, certainly. Of course, Goro wasn't  _ actually  _ entertaining the idea of a friendship with Akira. Goro simply needed to keep an eye on him. If Akira didn’t trust him, it would make his job many times more unpleasant than it already was. So… it seemed this was the beginning of a beautiful one-sided trust. 

“Certainly,” Goro replied with a sweet smile, reserved for his most hopeless tutored peers. “I’ll be waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y’all enjoyed if you’ve made it this far!! :’)  
> I’m hoping to keep this bad boy on a tentative weekly update schedule?? As in updates every 6-8 days when I can manage it  
> I might not stick to that 100% at all times because of classes/work/etc but I’ll do my best!! I’m also writing two pieces for the Goro Big Bang that I need to have a chunk of finished by next week so there might be a lil delay ;w;  
> Anyway thank you so much for reading!! Scream at me on Twitter— @teamsrockets

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! I’ve been sitting on this fic since shujin goro dropped and now I’m kinda obsessed with everyone-goes-to-shujin au’s  
> comments and kudos make my day and earn you a virtual high five 💕 planning on sticking to some semblance of a schedule to post this bad boy regularly


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